


Like Her Footprints in the Sand

by Thistlerose



Category: Code Name Verity - Elizabeth Wein
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 3, F/M, Gen, Jewish Character, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Post-Canon, Scotland, World War II, background canon ships - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 20:57:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3461750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thistlerose/pseuds/Thistlerose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years after the end of the war, Maddie still finds it hard to relax, but she's hopeful about the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Her Footprints in the Sand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ambyr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambyr/gifts).



Maddie lies on her back in the grass, watching wisps of clouds drift overhead. They’re colored by the approaching sunset: rosy gold, like antique lace hung across the darkening sky. Beneath her body, the grass is cool but not damp. A breeze stirs her hair. She can smell the rich earth, and the purple heather that grows all over the craggy hills surrounding her. She hears the occasional call of a swallow looking for its mate. She can’t hear her daughter, but if she tips her head back far enough, she can just see the top of her blonde hair. She’s over by a trickling stream, playing quietly with a pair of stuffed rabbits.

She’s a soft-spoken, thoughtful girl, very much the product of Maddie and Jamie. Sometimes, though, she’ll throw you a glance, and in her dark eyes there’ll be a sparkle of fantastic wit and Maddie can’t help but think of someone else...

She tries not to look up too often, tries not to worry, but it’s hard, even in this remote and peaceful little glen. Even though it’s been six years since the last German bomb fell on Scotland. Maddie has too many memories of air raid sirens rending a calm day all to pieces, of whole buildings disappearing behind walls of flame and smoke. Of losing people she loves.

Jamie understands: it’s impossible for her _not_ to be wary.

She lost one Julie. She can’t lose another.

As she lies there, barely moving, the shadows spread slowly across the glen and the underbellies of the clouds darken to lavender-gray. This far north, the sun won’t set fully for a good long while, but it’s getting on toward bedtime. 

Maddie rolls over onto her belly and pushes herself up on her elbows. She calls to her daughter, then watches, smiling, as Julie scrambles to her feet with the awkwardness of a puppy, and comes running toward her, dolls clutched to her chest, blonde braids bouncing against her back. 

By the time she draws near, Maddie is crouching in wait with her arms flung wide. Julie crashes right into her, shrieking with delight as Maddie scoops her up, dolls and all. Climbing to her feet, Maddie snuggles the wriggling girl, breathing in the warm, sweet scent of her and wanting to hold onto her like this forever. Julie’s head fits perfectly under her chin and her small hands clutch at the front of her blouse. Her cheek is pressed against the little silver star that Maddie wears at her throat – has worn since the end of the war.

It’s funny. When she was younger, Maddie never outright lied about the fact that she was Jewish; she simply never brought it up, and since she didn’t consider it one of her defining characteristics, she didn’t feel terribly guilty about it. She still isn’t observant and probably never will be, but she likes to wear the star anyway. It was from her grandfather, and it’s a reminder. Her best friend died for _something._

Her mother-in-law understands. So does her husband, and someday, so will her daughter. When she’s old enough, Maddie will tell _this_ Julie all about the sensational woman who came before her, who died to keep her home safe. Maddie will tell her how it felt to be someone’s best friend. 

Thinking about that, and starting to walk in the direction of home with her daughter’s legs wrapped tight around her waist, Maddie feels ... not quite whole, because that’s something she’ll never be again, but better. Like the sharp edges of the broken pieces inside her have been worn smooth by time and love. 


End file.
